


the one to fly to

by ruthvsreality



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, Superman - Freeform, Superman AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 11:12:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/pseuds/ruthvsreality
Summary: "Lovett is so, so fucking glad he cleared out his schedule, because the same night he has to say no to Tommy is the night Superman comes to meet him."Lovett/Tommy, superman au.





	the one to fly to

**Author's Note:**

> To be read while listening to the _Superman_ soundtrack.

1\. 

  
Lovett has almost finished up his article on the latest round of debates when his desktop monitor pings. He ignores it and turns away from his laptop to instead look out the window, where rain is falling down in sheets, making it almost impossible to see the Metropolis skyline.

“Favs, did Dorian get upgraded from a tropical storm to a Category 1? That might be the ping.”

Favs looks up from the crossword puzzle he’s designing, bemused. “You do have a computer.”

“I like it better when you say it.”

Favs glances over, craning his neck. “No, this one’s crime related.”

Lovett watches two raindrops on the window slide down the glass and converge into one big fat raindrop. “Don’t see who would be doing crime today. It’s too wet.”

“Apparently…” Favs reads off of his monitor, “some crooks just robbed a bank on 72nd Street. They even got away with it, too.”

“Those meddling kids.” Lovett frowns and turns back to his laptop. “Hope they get caught.”

Almost as soon as he says that, the tall, gangly, ungraceful figure of Tommy Vietor comes stumbling into the room.

“Lovett,” he looks very, very apologetic, “I’m sorry. But - I can’t work on the Buttigeg article tonight.”

Lovett parts his lips in a little ‘o’. “Again?”

“Remember the thing with my neighbor’s dog? Hanna?”

Lovett can’t remember if Hanna is the dog or the neighbor. “ _Again_?”

“Yes.” Tommy leans down. “I promise I’ll get my draft back to you by, like, tonight. And I won’t miss another event.”

Lovett sighs. The event’s probably going to be cancelled anyway, given the rain. “Tommy, if you leave the editing to me one more time, I’m gonna be so pissed at you.” Lovett hates editing. That’s what editors are for, isn’t it? But apparently you have to edit before the editor edits. Like rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’ll buy you dinner.” Tommy flashes him one of those warm little smiles that makes him look far older and wiser than he is.

Lovett narrows his eyes. “No pizza. I want real food. I want to be wined and dined.”

“Got it!” Tommy’s already running away. “See you around, dude!” He nearly walks face first into the door as he exits the room.

Lovett turns back to his article and wonders if Postmates delivers in tropical storms.

Fifteen minutes later, Lovett isn’t thinking about Tommy at all, because fucking Superman is on the television screen.

“Holy shit,” Favs says breathlessly, “He’s holding the robbers like they’re cats!”

Indeed, Superman, caught on camera by CNN, is carrying two scruffy-looking guys dressed in black to the police station, hovering about thirty feet off the ground. He looks directly at the camera, seems to notice he’s being filmed, and then all three men disappear in a blur of blue.

  
2.

Dan has gone absolutely nuts over Superman. He claims it’s because the owner of the Daily Planet, Obama, is also obsessed with him. But Lovett knows the truth. He knows why Dan assigned him to Superman. Dan’s got Superman fever.

Because everyone has Superman fever. It’s a goddamn alien! It - he? - can’t be human, and if he is, he’s certainly not anything anyone’s seen before. Does he have a family? A girlfriend? A pet? Where does he get that cool suit cleaned? How does he hold up a fucking helicopter with one hand? Everyone has questions, and everyone is running around frantically trying to get answers. Even Tommy has stopped his daily meditations during his lunch hour to check the police scanner, just in case there’s news of Superman stopping a bus crash, or capturing a home intruder, or fighting with strange lights in the sky.

(Apparently there’s more than one weird alien on Earth these days. It doesn’t matter - none of them are as cool or fascinating as Superman.)

Who is he? Where does he come from? Does he only save certain people? Is he a democrat? Can he kill Trump, or at least force him to confess his crimes? He’s already freed those kids from those camps at the border, but he could do more, in Lovett’s humble opinion.

Lovett is so focused on his investigation into this Superman that when Tommy asks him to dinner again, he’s apologetic but he declines. Tommy takes it well, no big deal, and Lovett makes a note to repay him in more cuddles with Pundit.  
Lovett is so, so fucking glad he cleared out his schedule, because the same night he has to say no to Tommy is the night Superman comes to meet him.

Superman doesn’t announce himself with a great booming voice, nor does he use heat vision to barge into Lovett’s apartment. He simply stands on the balcony and waits for Lovett to let him in. Lovett nearly jumps a foot in the air when he knocks, but then he opens the door with shaking hands.

Superman then introduces himself. “Hi, Jon. I’m - well, I suppose I’m Superman.”

Lovett knows who he is. “Jonathan Lovett.” He squeaks out. “You suppose?”

“You named me.”

“Jonathan Favreau named you,” Lovett points out, “if you don’t like the name you can take it up with him.”

“It’s okay, I do.” Superman smiles. “I’m actually here regarding your work.”

Lovett stiffens. “Am I in danger?”

“No, no,” Superman shakes his head, his hair more white than yellow in the moonlight. “I was just reading your article the other day, and I wanted to comment on a criticism - part of the reason I’m not able to fix problems and help more people is because while I’m… pretty fast, I can’t be in two places at once. I try my best, though.”

Superman just responded to Lovett’s article.

“You read my articles?”

“I do.”

“Do you - do you read every article about yourself?”

“No - but yours looked the most interesting.”

Lovett gapes at him for a moment. A breeze goes by. Behind Superman’s cape, the Metropolis skyline stretches out for miles.

“Can…” Lovett licks his lips, “can I interview you? For - for my paper? Because I’m gonna quote you on what you said before. As long as it was on the record.”

“It was.” Superman has such an easy confidence with his body that it’s almost intimidating; Lovett can’t imagine how strong he is. “And I can’t tell you everything, but I can answer some questions, if you’d like. I’m sure the world is…forming their opinions, and I want to make it clear I’m not here as a threat.”

“Well, why are you here, then?” Lovett takes out his phone to take notes.

“To fight for truth, justice, and the American way.” Superman responds.

Lovett blinks. "I don't know what that means."

Superman tilts his head at him.

“You’re sweating.”

Lovett’s eyes widen. “It’s warm, that’s all.” It _is_ July - maybe Superman is super good at regulating his body temperature, but Lovett isn’t. “Do you - do you want a diet Coke, or something?”

“No, thank you.” Superman looks a little bit concerned. “Why are you so nervous?”

That’s so blunt and Lovett shouldn’t find that weird straightforwardness hot. “I - you’re very, um, good looking, that’s all. Also you can fly. And you - you help all those people and. Superhero stuff.”

“I can’t help you with flying, but.” Superman shrugs. “I think you’re handsome enough to handle the average Kryptonian. And I’ve seen them all.”

“Kryptonian?” Lovett asks.

“Krypton, my home planet.”

“And… you think I could handle anyone, on there? Because I’m handsome enough?” Lovett looks down at his notebook and tries to ignore how his face must be the color of a tomato. He wants to be smooth. He hopes he sounds smooth. He doubts he’s pulling it off.

“Well… I’m the only one here, so.” Superman sort of shrugs and smiles.

“You are.”

They both just look at each other for a moment.

Then, like breaking a trance, Superman seems to look away for a moment as if hearing something Lovett can’t. “Sorry, I have to go.”

Lovett’s eyes widen. “Wait!” He protests. “I still have more questions!”

“Next time, I promise.” Superman smiles. “I can’t give you a reason to write bad things about me, can I?”

Lovett nods, momentarily dazed by just how fucking pretty this guy is. “Right. Next time.” There’s going to be a next time.

“Goodnight, Jon.” Superman gives a sort of half wave, half salute, and gently steps off the balcony edge.

And then he’s gone. Faster than a speeding bullet.

3.

On Monday night, Lovett and Tommy are in New York on assignment. They’re following Kamala Harris, and also trying as many weird foods as they can. (What the fuck is a cronut?)

Lovett is grateful for the reprieve from all the Superman stuff. Ever since he returned to Lovett’s balcony and properly answered some questions, it’s all anyone wants to talk about. Which is lovely, but Superman can’t stop Trump from getting reelected - and it’s Lovett’s job to inform the populace, so they have to focus on that.

At least, that’s the ideal. After three days of nonstop rally attendance, Lovett’s ears are ringing and he just wants to go home to Pundit. Tommy’s been good about it, at least. Even if he does get up to get water at weird times in the middle of the night, and leaves the bathroom light on when he does so. There’s also the fact that he goes out for walks at all hours, and when he comes back he thinks he’s slick, but he trips over Lovett’s sneakers and spills the toothbrushes in the bathroom when he comes back.

And… yeah, even if Lovett doesn’t like talking about Superman all the time, he is looking forward to going home and talking _to_ Superman. The “big guy” (Tommy’s nickname) visits every few days, ostensibly to sit for another interview, but really it’s so he and Lovett can talk. Superman isn’t only super strong and super fast; he’s also brilliant. Lovett could talk with him all night.

It’ll be good to get back.

Lovett and Tommy are walking down a side street to get back to their hotel around midnight when an enormous guy comes up to them and very quickly puts a gun in Lovett’s face.

“Give me your wallet, I don’t want any trouble,” the guy growls.

The world slows down.

Lovett nods. _No trouble, no trouble_. He reaches to get his wallet, knowing Tommy is doing the same behind him. If he can just get through this without any sudden movements, it’s no big deal, they’re fine, they’re fine, people get mugged all the time and nothing happens -

“Hey, asshole, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Tommy shoves Lovett to the side and the gun fires wildly, and for a moment Lovett thinks he might’ve just seen his best friend get killed.

“Tommy!”

But then Tommy knocks the gun out of this guy’s hand like it’s a toy, grabs his wrist, twists his arm behind his back, and shoves him to the ground.

He puts one big boot on the guy’s back, over his arm, and says, “hey, Jon, could you call 911?”

All of this takes place in about ten seconds. Maybe less.

It’s amazing that it takes until Lovett’s given a statement to the police and they’re back in the safety of the hotel room for him to freak out.

“What the _fuck_ was that, Tommy!”

Tommy’s still inspecting his glasses, which might’ve gotten scratched in the scuffle. “What was what? Don’t tell me you’re mad about it.”

“Mad about it?! I am livid!”

“Why?”

“You nearly got yourself killed!” Lovett is furious and Tommy is irrationally undisturbed about everything.

“I wasn’t going to let you get robbed!”

“He had a _gun_ , Tommy, it went off!”

“It didn’t hit me!” Tommy responds calmly. It’s times like this when Lovett wants to strangle the mild manners out of him.

“It looked like it did! Do you know what that feels like? Do you know how it feels to think your best friend might’ve just gotten shot?”

“Yeah I do, Lovett, because the gun was pointed at you!” Tommy’s voice finally has an edge to it. “I wasn’t just going to stand there! You don’t have to thank me for trying to save your life, but you sure as fuck don’t get to yell at me about it!”

The room fills with silence, like a long stretch of fabric being draped over everything. Tommy’s watch beeps. It’s three o’clock in the morning. They have a flight in six hours.  
Tommy gets up to go get ready for bed. Lovett just stands there, his feet feeling like blocks of lead.

He’s angry at Tommy. He can’t believe Tommy did that. He feels small and helpless, and Tommy did such - such an amazing thing, and he risked his life, and they both could’ve died, and, and -

“Tommy, can I have a hug? I’m sorry I yelled.” Lovett doesn’t know why he feels so vulnerable, but the pain is coming from somewhere deep inside him.

Tommy comes out of the bathroom, dressed for bed. “Yeah, man. Everything okay? I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Lovett could’ve sworn the gun went off directly into Tommy’s chest.

It doesn’t matter now. Tommy is here and warm and alive and gathering Lovett into his arms.

“Everything’s fine.”

4.

The night Lovett gets back, as he’s unpacking, Superman lands on his balcony.

“You should’ve been in New York!” Lovett jokes, tossing socks and extra underwear back in his drawer (what, did he think he was going to piss himself everyday of the trip?). “I got mugged - nearly died!”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Superman looks genuinely upset about it.

“It’s okay - my friend Tommy was a fucking moron and risked his life to keep me safe.” Lovett smiles. “So it’s okay.”

“He sounds very brave.”

“He was pretty stupid.” Lovett shakes his head. “The guy had a gun.”

“All the more reason to protect you.” Superman says _protect_ and it evokes the image of a baby bird in a nest. For a moment, Lovett wonders if that’s what all humans are, to Superman. Baby birds in need of care. But he’s also agreeing with Tommy, so he definitely isn’t perfect.

“You sound just like him. But we can’t all be like you - we can’t all be strong and indestructible and handsome.”

Superman actually looks a little bashful. “Thank you.”

There’s a silence. The evening breeze, coming in through the open balcony doors, shakes Lovett’s curls.

“Superman,” Lovett asks, “are you straight?”

Superman blinks, as though no one’s ever asked him the question.

Immediately Lovett feels like shit. “Sorry. That’s like - super invasive, I just - you’ve hung out at my house, like, five times now, and we’ve talked a lot, and you seem to like me, and, you know, you’re not even human, forget it, it’s fine, it’s -“

“I don’t really have a preference.”

Lovett stops his rambling. “Really?”

“I like women and men. I’m bisexual.”

Superman is bisexual. Lovett has to process that for a moment.

“Okay.”

Superman smiles cheekily. “You can do what you’d like with that information,” he steps back, “but there’s a kitten in a tree that needs saving.”

“Wait!” Lovett steps forward. “You can’t flirt like that and then leave! You better come back.”

“I will. I promise.”

Superman reaches out and offers his hand. Lovett reaches out and takes it.

Superman squeezes lightly; it’s the gentlest touch Lovett has ever felt.

And then he’s gone.

5.

Tommy seems to pick up that Lovett is stressed, when he comes to visit a couple of weeks later.

“Hey, did the... uh... the big guy visit you?”

“Yeah.” Lovett doesn’t say, _we almost kissed_. “Hey. Um. Tommy. Have you ever thought about secret identities?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy fusses with his glasses.

“Like Hannah Montana.”

“... What?”

“Superman has one. He says that’s the reason he wouldn’t kiss me.”

“He _kissed_ you?!”

“He wouldn’t! Because of the secret identity! Tommy, are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry! Yes!” Tommy thinks for a moment. “Wow, Superman’s gay.”

“Just because he’s into guys doesn’t make him gay. But not my point, Tommy!”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue. I’m listening.”

“He said he didn’t want any secrets between us. But, like, we haven’t even kissed yet! Everyone’s got secrets at this stage.”

Tommy shrugs and leans over and takes a sun chip off of Lovett’s plate. “I imagine his secrets are more dangerous than other people’s. He’s probably just -“

“Trying to keep me safe.” Lovett rolls his eyes. “That’s what he said, too.”

“Then you know I’m right.” Tommy gestures wildly to make his point clearer, and proceeds to spill his drink all over the table.

6.

Lovett realizes something’s up the first time Superman takes him flying.

First of all, flying is amazing. Flying is the best thing ever. Flying is better than pizza, and maybe sex. And Lovett fucking means it. Flying with Superman! He feels as light as a feather. He feels weightless, and beautiful, like one of the stars dotting the sky. He looks at Superman, and thinks, _if you need a friend, I’m the one to fly to_.

Lovett gets dropped back off at his apartment and stumbles on his feet for the first few moments.

“Oh my god!” He exclaims. Superman rushes over to steady him. “That was amazing!”

Superman laughs at Lovett’s giddiness, and his laugh... sounds familiar.

Lovett doesn’t think anything of it, caught up in the exhilaration of flying through the air.

The second time, Lovett is in Superman’s little fortress (is this where he lives? Seems lonely.), and Superman sees him look out at the sunrise over the ice, and squeezes Lovett’s hand.

Lovett has a friend that does that. Tommy does that. He’d say something, but Superman is starting to warm up to the idea of loving him, so Lovett isn’t going to push it by making it weird and bringing up Tommy.

But the third time is just weird enough to get Lovett to freak about it.

The third time, Superman actually cries in front of him. It turns out, not all days are good days for Superman. Being super strong and super fast doesn’t mean you can always save everyone. Sometimes people you love die. Sometimes it has nothing to do with you. Sometimes you are doing everything you can, and people still get hurt.

Lovett understands. But still. It’s heartbreaking to see Superman cry. It reminds Lovett that this man is still just that - a man, deep down. Super powers don’t necessarily protect your heart.

The thing is... Lovett knows that cry. Because when Tommy cries Lovett hates it, and he can’t get the sad sound out of his head. When a coworker of theirs passed away suddenly, Tommy was able to hold it together for only so long, and Lovett has the sounds of his grieving burned into his memory.

So what the fuck is going on here?

Tommy comes over to play video games and drink beer and do bro stuff on Saturday.

“How’s the big guy?” Tommy asks, setting down the controller. Lovett swallows.

“Tommy... you don’t have, like, a twin brother you’re not telling me about, do you?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “No.” He says flatly.

“Because…” God, how to say this without sounding like a lunatic, “I was talking to the big guy, and he was upset, and - and you two are so alike, and I don’t understand how you can be so alike, and it’s really fucking confusing!”

Tommy takes a look at Lovett for a long, long moment. He glances outside at the balcony, where evening has settled in. He looks back. It seems like he’s making a big decision in his head.

Then he sets his beer down, gets up off the couch, walks out, and steps off the edge of the balcony.

“Oh my god, Tommy!” Lovett runs after him, his heart feeling like it’s on fire. What the fuck - what - _Tommy_ -

And then something amazing happens.

Tommy flies back up, right in front of him, blonde hair ruffling in the breeze.

“Oh... my... God.” Lovett breathes.

Tommy steps back onto the balcony. “I figured that was the quickest way to show you.” He takes off his glasses, and holds out his hand as if to shake. “Hi, Jon. I’m Superman.”

There’s a pause.

“ _What_?!”

“Lovett,” Tommy pulls back his outstretched hand, “I’m Superman.” He gently sets his glasses down on the balcony edge.

“This isn’t happening.” Lovett turns away. “There’s no way.”

“I honestly am surprised you didn’t realize it sooner.” Tommy nods at the glasses. “It’s not really a great disguise.”

“But - But - I _know_ you -“

“You still do, Lovett.”

“No I don’t!” Lovett has to take some deep breaths so he doesn’t freak out. “I thought I did, but I don’t - Superman - _you_ said that you had a secret identity.”

“Yes.”

“This is your secret identity?! That means it’s not real, Tommy! None of this is real!” Lovett feels his own armor come up, to protect himself from heartbreak. “Do you - is Tommy even your real name?”

“Not... exactly.”

“Then what is it?” Lovett defensively folds his arms across his chest.

“It’s Kal-El. From the house El. But the rest of it is real, Jon, I really did grow up in Boston, I really did -“  
  
“Who else knows? Does Jon know? Does Dan know? Jesus, do your _parents_ even know?”

“Of course they know, Lovett, they’re my parents.”

Lovett has about a million questions and each one of them makes him feel worse. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

He goes back into reporter mode just to stop himself from panicking.

“Do you really have heat vision? Do you really have super strength?”

“Yes, and yes.” Tommy takes a step towards Lovett. Lovett steps back.

“Wait a second.” He runs back to the living room, grabs a newspaper off of the coffee table, and points to the front page.

There’s a picture of Superman on it, standing in front of a young black man on the pavement. The police are pointing guns, aiming directly at the big S on Superman’s chest.

Lovett wrote an article on that, about how Superman’s work preventing police brutality in this one instance should be a symbol of policy changes to come.

Superman had guns pointed directly at him. Superman’s in danger all the time.

“That’s you? Jumping into burning buildings, and - and running in front of bullets, and - and nearly getting yourself killed?”

Tommy just looks at him, apologetic.

Lovett thinks he might be sick.

“Lovett, it’s not what you think.”

“Really? Because I think you’re purposefully putting yourself in danger every day, and you could get yourself killed, and also you’ve been lying to me the entire time we’ve known each other.”

Tommy closes his eyes. “Okay, it’s - it’s a bit of what you think.”

Lovett doesn’t know what to do. “Tommy... Superman said he was in love with me.”

Tommy winces.

“Superman almost kissed me. Was - was that a lie too?”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, Lovett -“

 _I don’t even know who you are_. “I think you should go.”

Tommy nods, chastened. “I’ll give you your space.”

He takes the elevator out of Lovett’s apartment. A few minutes later, Lovett sees a flash from outside his window, as Superman flies away. Lovett watches him go, until he’s only a speck in the evening sun.

  
7.

  
Time passes. Lovett doesn’t answer any of Tommy’s texts. Then he writes a really long one that’s probably emotionally manipulative and he deletes it. In the end, their conversation is composed of four measly texts which at the same time reveal too much and don’t say nearly enough.

_I’m still your friend. I need some space, that’s all._

_Okay._

_Please don’t die on me._

_I’m not going to._

At the office, Lovett is amazed he didn’t realize something was up with Tommy sooner. For as awkward as he is, he’s always very gentle and careful with his strength - and suddenly all those broken keyboards make sense.

And that time he correctly diagnosed Jon’s sprained ankle? Or guessed the contents of Dan’s briefcase? Lovett’s an idiot. X-ray vision. Stupid.

They don’t really talk. Tommy brings Lovett coffee and donuts, and Superman stays out of the headlines, probably helping little kittens out of trees.

Tommy is Superman, and Superman is Tommy.

It takes a while to come to terms with it, but Lovett realizes that he loved Tommy long before he loved Superman; he just didn’t know it. He needed to see Tommy standing tall and confident to realize.

Now what’s he supposed to do?

  
8.

On Thursday Lovett is walking down the street to work when a cloud of dust appears around him and a large, looming figure with a cape and an orange suit appears before him.

Lovett can see that this guy has a big green head and weird antennae. He glances around. It seems everyone else has decided to retreat inside their respective Starbuckses and delis. Great. So now he’s alone. Awesome.

“Mortal of Earth! I have come to build a new world, of strength and prosperity! Surrender, or be eradicated!”

“Uh, no thank you!” He calls back. This guy seems like a jerk, and he’s definitely not going to let Lovett walk past to get to the office. “Earth is - Earth is okay without your help!”

The guy points at Lovett and steps towards him with a gait that implies he could crush Lovett like a grape. “Your kind must be subjugated, in order for my race to thrive! Surrender, if you want to live!”

 _Oh, good, he’s a racist, too._ Lovett frowns. “No.” He’s probably going to die, but not before telling this guy off. “Sorry, but we already have one supervillain on this planet, and he’s the president.” This guy probably won’t get that joke, but it’s funny to Lovett, at least, and it will be funny if/when he gets to tell the story later.

The guy’s eyes widen, and he takes out a small orb. From it a bunch of weird snakelike robot creatures emerge, surrounding Lovett and hissing like they’re about to strike.

“I shall make you an example for the others.”

Lovett gulps. Alright. He had a good run -

Superman - no, not Superman, _Tommy_ \- swoops in and shoves this guy so hard he flies back nearly half a block.

“ _Stay away from him_!”

Lovett gapes at him. Holy shit.

What follows can only be described as a beatdown of epic proportions. While the green guy holds his own for a while, eventually Tommy just… fucks him up. Which is good. Lovett usually isn’t in favor of outright violence, but that guy was going to kill him! He deserves what he gets.

Tommy makes quick work of both the guy and his henchsnakes, while Lovett plays the part of the responsible citizen and helps guide civilians into cars and buses and away from the fight.

Once it’s over, Lovett’s the only one left, except for the two aliens duking it out in the middle of the street. Lovett leans against an old payphone - they still have these things? What for? - and watches the fight, exhausted and covered in dust and debris from the one store they crashed into (thankfully evacuated).

Tommy shoves the green headed guy back and punches him in the face, hard. He stumbles backwards and Tommy pushes him to the ground, leaning over him. When he speaks, it’s not quiet. It feels like his voice is so loud it fills Lovett’s lungs, the sound becoming the air he breathes.

“This planet is my _home_ ,” Tommy says. “These people are my family. I will always fight to protect them. _Go_. Now. And do not return.”

The guy nods. He taps something on his wrist, and promptly disappears in another cloud of dust.

Tommy turns around and surveys the scene. “Okay, minimum damage - a wall broken, but - pretty good, overall, I think! We sure took care of him.”

Lovett just stares at him. Tommy is framed by the morning sunlight and he’s covered in dust and dirt and he has blond hair and sky blue eyes and he looks like the most devastatingly beautiful man on Earth or any other planet.

Lovett opens his mouth to speak -

One of the last remaining henchsnakes slithers out from under some debris towards him, hissing. It seems it hasn’t been killed yet.

Lovett lets out a little yelp, which turns into a louder yelp as the snake-thing is vaporized by Tommy’s heat vision within a second.

“Sorry about that.” Tommy steps forward. “Lovett…” He sounds like mild-mannered Tommy again, “Are you okay?”

Lovett nods dazedly. “My _hero_ ,” he sighs, before his knees give out and he faints onto the pavement.

9.

When Lovett wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed.

His head hurts. A lot.

“Ow.” He says.

“Hey, buddy.” It takes Lovett a moment to realize Tommy’s sitting next to him. “How’re you doing?”

Lovett sits up with some effort. “Fine. My head hurts.”

“That’ll be the concussion,” the doctor says. Lovett hadn’t even noticed she was in the room. “But it’s mild, and other than that and a few scrapes, Mr. Lovett, you’re just fine. Pretty good for being in the middle of a fight between two aliens.”

“Yeah, how did you get out of that, anyway?” Tommy asks.

Lovett frowns. Tommy must’ve carried him to the hospital. “You know how I…”

Tommy clears his throat and gives him an extremely pointed look.

 _Oh. Right_. Lovett never considered the power he might have in this little relationship of theirs. “I - I think Superman carried me here.” He says to the doctor. “I don’t really remember.”

“Well, then he’s got another point in my book.” She replies with a small smile. “I’ll leave you two for a little bit, but I’ll come back with paperwork and we’ll have you out of here in no time.” She points to Tommy. “Do you remember what I told you to look out for?”

Tommy nods. “Yes ma’am.”

The doctor leaves; now it’s just Lovett and Tommy.

“You hit your head pretty hard on the pavement.” Tommy says. He moves his chair closer so he’s right up at Lovett’s bedside.

“Well, I had to outdo you in the drama department somehow.” Lovett replies. Tommy hums in agreement.

There’s a comfortable silence. Slowly, carefully, Tommy reaches up and cups Lovett’s cheek.

“Seeing you there, in so much trouble… I thought of an answer to your question.”

“Which one?” Lovett asks a lot of questions. He’ll probably never stop asking Tommy questions. He never wants to.

“What I mean by truth, justice, and the American way. Usually it’s abstract, but…” Tommy gives him a soft smile. “It’s you, Lovett. You and people like you.”

Oh, _God_. “You are - you are such a fucking sap, Tommy Vietor.” Lovett isn’t going to cry, at least not right now, even though it’s been a hell of a day and he deserves a good cry. Maybe he’ll cry later, into Pundit’s fur or something. In the meantime, hopefully Tommy will keep touching him.

They just look at each other, for a moment. No superpowers, no interviews, no cape. Just Tommy and Lovett.

“Tommy... “ Lovett says. “I told Superman I was in love with him.”

Tommy stiffens a teeny tiny bit. “You did.”

“Do I have to say I’m in love with you, too? Or does it overlap?”

Tommy chuckles, misty eyed. “The, uh, Venn diagram’s a circle, so to speak.”

He leans in, and gives Lovett a soft, closed-mouth kiss. Lovett savors it; it makes him feel weightless, like he’s high above the clouds.

“I know it won’t be easy,” Tommy says, “I’ll still be in danger all the time. But… it’s important to remember that the danger is relative. My danger isn’t your danger. And what’s most important to me,” Tommy stresses, “is that I really want to be with you. I want to do this.”

“Wine and dine me first.” Lovett jokes. “Then we can talk.”

“We can do more than talk.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

The next kiss is not close-mouthed.

10.

  
Lovett gets home an hour and a half later; he greets Pundit, drinks a Diet Coke, and turns to his new boyfriend. “The doc said to rest, right? Relax, no strenuous activity?”

“Something like that.”

“... I’m sure flying wouldn’t count as a strenuous activity, right?”

Tommy grins.

+1

Lovett wakes up on a Sunday morning two months after Superman visited him for the first time to the sound of a ruckus in the kitchen.

“Pundit, please, give it back! It’s my cape!”

Lovett closes his eyes and smiles. It seems like he’s going to have to swoop in and save the day, yet again.

“You’re a dog! You can’t wear it! It doesn’t even fit.”

There’s a pause. A bark, and then a groan.

“Lovett, can you come rescue me, please?” Tommy calls.

Lovett is always happy to do so.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Epilogue inspired by this weird and wonderful meme: https://me.me/i/give-back-youre-a-dog-doesnt-even-fit-that-is-994436 . I have no idea what the context for it is, so if anyone can find that for me, I would be eternally grateful.  
> \- Cheers to @selfrescuingprincess for the beta.


End file.
